


Distant Galaxies

by broomclosetkink



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Other, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-17 04:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broomclosetkink/pseuds/broomclosetkink
Summary: “I know you,” Sara whispers, and tears begin to slide down Jaal’s cheeks. She draws a shuddering breath and grips his hand even harder, tugging to pull him down. Slowly she reaches up, so slowly, dragging her fingertips across his cheek. “I know you.” -- soulmate AU rated for later chapters





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Literally no one asked for a soulmate AU but here I am, hurling it at y'all and running away. My brain was like, "you gotta" and how the hell am I supposed to refuse? So: Sara's not the Pathfinder, and she comes out of the coma sooner than in canon. Also soulmates. That's it, that's the whole plot. NOW TO THE FLUFF.

When the nights are quiet and the family sleeps, Jaal goes to the roof. Solitude is a rare thing, even after his move from the nursery to the little room that became his own. Little ones come to sleep with him, curled up and softly snoring, and it’s not that Jaal minds – he doesn’t always like to sleep alone, likes to have someone warm and comforting beside him – but there are moments when it feels as though his chest will explode outward with yearning. He doesn’t know what it’s for, this longing; a place outside of the shadows of his elder siblings, a universe removed from the kett and the constant threat of losing more of his loved ones, or a desire to explore unknown horizons. Perhaps it is all of those things.

Perhaps it is none.

He lies on his back, staring into the sky. He traces the constellations of stars above Havarl, tells himself the stories related to them. But the darkness between and beyond distracts him. He dreams of it, sometimes, that yawning darkness. It is cold and endless, but somehow moving, always pressing forward. A journey to a place he has no name for and has yet to reach.

Jaal stretches his hand out, towards the sky and stars and distant planets, as though he might finally grasp what lies just beyond reach.

 

\----X----

 

Jaal falls in love and loses it quite spectacularly. His heart bleeds but he sings at his brother’s wedding, pouring his hopes for the woman he loved and his brother into the twining melodies. It hurts, oh, it hurts so deeply – but he wants them to have happiness, and peace, and many wonderful children.

He takes an assignment on Voeld shortly after and is glad for it, glad for the frozen cold and tundras, where he doesn’t see Allia settling into her new role as a Mother to the many little ones of their ever expanding family. He misses his family, of course he does, but there is something about the bitter cold that draws him in this time. It burns, but it is… cleansing. Healing. Promsing a better future, maybe.

Wishful thinking, he’s sure, but where would they be without hope?

 

\----X----

 

 

There is always another mountain to climb, another shadow to step out of. He is Jaal Ama Darav, but never simply himself. It is _Jaal, True Son of Sahuna Ama Darav_ or _Jaal, brother to Elosk Ama Darav_ or _Jaal, nephew of Tsoki Ama Darav_. Always the addition, the standards he should be meeting and is not.

It is small, petty, and ugly, but Jaal’s frustration grows day by day, month by month. Efra sees that him, the way he strains against the weight of the expectations that being an Ama Darav brings, and places him in the back of things. Never on the front lines, never leading an assault. A punishment for something Jaal can’t name, he thinks. Maybe simply for being lesser.

 

\----X----

 

 

Aliens land on Aya, and within a day Jaal is whisked into the stars. The territory of a potential enemy, but… something in Jaal’s mind says I know this. He looks to the human Pathfinder, young and raw and uneasy in his position, so strange and foreign, and swears he already knows the odd features of the man’s face. Scott Ryder is quick to smile and does his best to welcome Jaal onto the Tempest.

The crew of aliens, of different species, are still learning how to fit together; it is not hard to find a gap to fill. Jaal tries to stay distant and objective, but Ryder is so forthright and earnest that is impossible not to like the human. There is something a bit Angaran about him. Or maybe it is that there are less differences between their species than they assume.

 

\----X----

 

“One mother?” Jaal repeats, for the third time.

Ryder nods. “Just one.”

“And one father?”

“Yup.”

“And only one sibling?”

Something flashes across Ryder’s face, darkening the usual cheer. He sighs and slumps, not meeting Jaal’s gaze as he nods once more. “Both my parents are dead. Sara, my sister, she’s… she’s in a coma. They say she’ll wake up but can’t say when, or how she’ll be affected, if she’ll be affected… Maybe she’ll come out perfectly fine. Maybe she’ll never walk or talk again. Maybe she’ll never wake up.”

Ryder’s hands tremble, and Jaal is moved to tears. He reaches out on instinct, taking the human’s hands in his own. “I am so sorry,” he says thickly. “I will pray for your sister. For Sara Ryder.”

Humans do not like to cry the company of others (strange, to Jaal’s mind), but a few tears slip down Ryder’s cheeks.

“Thanks, buddy.”

 

\----X----

 

 

The Tempest is on a heading to Kadara and in the middle of a night cycle when Ryder slams out of his quarters like the Archon is on his heels. He bangs against the wall, curses loudly, and orders the lights to brighten as he runs – runs – towards the crew quarters. Jaal knows this as he is in the galley, scrounging up a late night meal as he was too preoccupied working on Cora’s new shotgun (it will perform magnificently with these mods, he’s sure of it) to eat dinner with the others.

Instantly on alert, Jaal hurries out of the small galley. “Ryder? Has something happened? Ryder?”

“Kallo!” The doors to the bunks slides open seconds before Ryder plows through them. “Kallo, get up, we’re going to the Nexus. _Now_!”

Jaal enters the quarters in time to see Suvi roll out of her bunk, hair wild and a mask covering her eyes. She’s tangled in a blanket and cursing thickly. Kallo is already out of his bunk, blinking rapidly at the wild-eyed Pathfinder that woke them all.

“What the fuck, kid?” Drack snarls from his (refitted) bunk. He throws a pillow at Ryder, who doesn’t duck or knock it awa. He barely seems to register the small hit.

“Now, Kallo, hurry!”

The pilot, always precise and quick to follow orders, nods once before briskly striding towards the door.

Lexi’s voice is sleep rough, but also gentle and rather worried. She rolls out of her bunk and extends a hand to the Pathfinder, who is panting, chest and shoulders heaving. “Scott?” He gives her a wild-eyed look, like he can’t quite comprehend the sound of his name. “Scott, can you tell me what’s happened?”

“Sara.” A whisper, brutally raw. Ryder begins violently shaking. Jaal’s heart drops, preparing for the worst. His friend has only one bit of family left, one connection, and if she – if the worst has occurred and his sister is gone –

“What about Sara, Scott?” Lexi presses.

Ryder begins to cry. There is no repression in this, only an outpouring of emotion. Jaal rushes forward, opening his arms to this human who has become a friend and, yes, like a brother. Scott sags against Jaal, not pulling away or trying to hide. There are half-formed words in between the weeping, but not even SAM’s advanced translator can make sense of the sounds.

“Sara Ryder has woken from her coma.” SAM’s announcement is mechanical and cool. Ryder’s legs give out at the words, and Jaal catches the man around the chest and waist before sinking to the floor with him.

“Prognosis?” asks Lexi.

 

“Dr. Carlyle has assessed Sara and determined that she is has suffered little after affects from the Scourge contact while in her stasis pod and from the coma. There is muscle atrophy and weakness, but her mental facilities are unchanged.” A pause, and there is a certain… gentleness to the AI’s next words. “She will make a full recovery, Scott.”

Ryder sobs all the harder. Jaal rocks him, petting his shoulders and back. And he cries, too, because he can’t imagine the relief, the staggering joy of this good news – his only family in two galaxies alive, after _so many_ losses and struggles and battles.

Drack thuds over, folding himself down with a grunt and several cracking joints. He thumps a big hand on Ryder’s back, patting and rubbing. “Let it out, kid. It’s been a hell of a ride. Nice to get some good news for once, eh?”

Jaal hadn’t realized Lexi had even left the room until she returns, a hyposhot in hand. “A mild sedative,” she explains, crouching in front of them: what a sight they must be, a krogan, human, and angara, two of them weeping and one trying hard to pretend he doesn’t have tears in his eyes. Ryder tries to pull back, to shake his head, but Lexi is firm.

“You need to calm down, you’re having a panic attack. And no wonder, after all the worrying you’ve done for Sara. You held it all back for so long, to be strong for us, but you need to rest now. Okay? There we go, one shot and we’re done.” Lexi leans back, looking between Jaal and Drack. “Can you carry him to his room? He’s not going to be walking on his own.”

“Could have waited until he was standing, doc,” Drack grumbles, but he helps Jaal heave Scott of the floor.

“She – she’s alive –” Ryder finally manages to get out before another wave of tears hit him. “I thought – I thought she was – I _knew_ she was gonna die, but –”

“Wonderful news,” Jaal weeps. “Wonderful, beautiful news!”

They carry Ryder to his bed. Lexi tends to him in as gently as a mother would a child, brushing the red curls off his forehead and tucking a soft blanket around his body. “Sleep now,” she gently urges, “and you’ll see Sara tomorrow.”

Jaal cannot stop smiling.

 

\----X----

 

 

The Tempest barely docks before Scott rushes off and the crew is left to their own devices. “I’ll check in on them later,” Cora says, and that seems right. She knows them both, knew them before they left their galaxy to come here. “But right now, I think they need to be alone.”

Jaal spends time in the newly established Embassy, researching the Milky Way species. He’d started with asari but has switched to human, specifically their family bonds. With such small families, Jaal can’t imagine how tightly they must cling to each other. They return to the Tempest for dinner, and then scatter to settle in for the evening.

 

“The Pathfinder won’t be back tonight,” Cora says in a message over their omni-tools. There’s a picture attached: Jaal opens it to see a medical suite (he flushes just seeing it), machines surrounding a long bed. It’s meant for one person or half a krogan, but the Ryder twins share it. They’re on their sides, curled into to each like two halves of a whole. All that can be seen of Sara Ryder’s face is the curve of her cheek and a bit of her forehead, as she’s pressed her face against Scott’s chest and is deeply asleep.

Jaal forwards it to his Mothers, glad to spread a bit of cheer and hope.

 

\----X----

 

 

On the second day, Dr. Carlyle allows the Tempest crew to greet the second Ryder, but only for a short time. Jaal is late, having been on a vid-call with his sister (she’s expecting her first child, will be visiting the birthing pool soon and is as anxious as she is excited). He’s not entirely comfortable entering the medical wing of the Hyperion, but he is glad to brave the discomfort the chance to see his new friend so happy, and to meet Ryder’s much-loved sister.

The doors swish open and Jaal steps into the medical suite, electric field jumping as he’s sees many occupied beds. Someone coughs and he very nearly jumps, but then Peebee is waving wildly at him.

“Jaal’s here!” she announces. “I told you he was dreamy. You’re welcome for the warning, ‘cause damn, right?” This she says in a (loud) aside to Sara.

Sara Ryder who is sitting up in bed, pillows behind her back and a blanket folded across her lap. She’s pale and a bit frail looking, but her red-gold hair looks freshly washed (Jaal has seen Scott’s often enough to know the difference, now), and though her eyes are red-rimmed and lined with dark circles, she is smiling.

Jaal catches her gaze, lifts a hand and opens his mouth when the world – the galaxy – the entire universe shifts. Time stops, or speeds up, or flows backwards, or maybe it does all of those things at the same time. There is the darkness between stars speeding forward and a boy on a roof; there is a little girl scrambling up rocks and a shot of fear as the cryo-pod is closed; there is –

There is nothing more or less than Jaal Ama Darav and Sara Ryder.

Jaal staggers. His field flares and then lunges, reaching towards this human woman whose mouth has gone wide, her eyes wider. She’s leaning forward, like she’s caught in the same moment Jaal is (but of course she is, how could she _not_ be?). Her mouth shapes words but no sounds come out, and he can barely think but somehow, he’s moving towards the bed where Sara is sitting, watching, reaching out.

Jaal drops a glove to the floor, then the other. He needs to touch her. Rare to expose his hands in public, to touch like _this_ in public; but he needs to feel her energy, to know her, to make sure this is real and not some fever dream.

Sara’s hand is extended. Carelessly, Jaal pushes Liam out of the way, then Cora, then Peebee.

“Holy _fuck_ , what the –” Scott is yelping, because the humans’ hair is standing on end; Jaal’s field is too strong to hold to back, to dampen. Lexi is attempting to come between them, almost crawling across the foot of Sara’s bed, but Jaal knocks her hand down and then… then he’s holding Sara’s hand in his own.

She looks up at him with the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen. Her fingers, so different from his own, curl around his. Their palms press together and –

There’s so much, _too_ much. Jaal’s life, Sara’s life, lives that have come before and maybe ones that will come after. Laid bare is Sara Ryder’s soul, and it is the most wondrous thing Jaal has ever, _will ever_ , see. She is warm and kind and loving; she is clever and witty and has a core of stubbornness that is as weighty as a neutron star. And oh, Jaal loves this soul, this Sara, even the bits of darkness and uncertainty that blend into her. Loves her as he has loved nothing and no one before.

The images fade, and sparks are flying around them. Literally – Jaal’s field as shorted out a machine.

“SAM, what the fuck?” Scott demands. He’s hovering close, frantic, hands just over Sara and Jaal’s. It’s clear he wants to push them apart but is afraid to.

“Unknown, Ryder. Mr. Ama Darav’s bio-electric field is responding in an unknown way.”

“I know you,” Sara whispers, and tears begin to slide down Jaal’s cheeks. She draws a shuddering breath and grips his hand even harder, tugging to pull him down. Slowly she reaches up, so slowly, dragging her fingertips across his cheek. “I _know_ you.”

Jaal gasps out, “Darling one,” and folds a leg on the edge of the bed to better lean over her. To come closer. “Oh, my darling one.”

“Jaal, buddy, uh… what the fuck?” Liam asks.

“Are they gonna make out?” Peebee seems delighted at the idea. “This is weird and, not gonna lie, I’m kinda into it.”

“I think I dreamed of you.” Sara cups the side of his face and, _oh_ , her hand is so warm and precious. The touch rockets through Jaal, as though she’s reached inside him and has grasped his soul in that little hand.

“And I, you.” His voice is rough and wavering, but his subvocals sing with such joy that it feels as though his chest will explode from the weight of it.

Scott scans them, as though his omni-tool can read spirits and souls. It makes Jaal laugh, and he dips his head, pressing his forehead to Sara’s.

“What’s happening?” she asks, breathless and shocked but there’s no fear. Oh, she is brave: this beautiful creature is brave and wonderful, and she owns him _entirely_.

“You are – **_we_** are _vaasa-nari_.”

“Translate,” Scott barks.

“Literal translation: shared souls,” SAM immediately responds. “Contextually, there are many meanings. Friends or family who are exceptionally close; people who share a similar goal or passion; children born at the same to the same True Mother; and –”

“Souls that are born apart, across time and galaxies, but are meant to be together.” Jaal draws her hand to his chest, to the place where his heart is covered by hard, thick bone, and holds it there. He’d rip it out and hand it to her, if only she asked.

“Wait. Wait, does he mean – does he mean –” Peebee is cackling, gleefully, somewhere behind them.

“Soulmates?” Sara asks, and it takes a second for translator to feed it to Jaal. He nods seconds after she speaks, their foreheads still against each other.

“Yes, _taoshay_. Soulmates.”

Jaal laughs again, stupefied and delirious. It’s not just him – no, _she_ feels it, knows it as he does, even though she isn’t angaran – even though they’re different, their souls have found each other, and he is _humbled_ by this miracle.

Sara pulls her head back to smile up at Jaal. “Hello,” she says, soft and intimate, a greeting meant only for him.

“Hello, my darling one,” he returns, beaming.

 

 


	2. Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention I'm writing this bad boy without a beta, so blanket apology for all the rando mistakes. Thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos, so far! I truly appreciate it! Also, I've been singing "I Knew I Loved You (Before I Met You)" by Savage Garden for like three hours. My dogs are sick of it, but it's the official Love Theme for these guys. (It has been broken up with "FLUFF! FLUFF! FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF!" to the tune of "Shots" so I mean, that's a thing.)

Locked behind the safety of the tech lab doors, Jaal takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe. It seems unreal to be standing in this now familiar room. Everything is just as he left it, tools neatly laid out and his sewing box open on his small cot, and yet… yet it is all so changed. The very fabric of Jaal’s existence has been unraveled and rewoven, and he is a bundled of tangled emotions. He is awed, humbled, and thrilled; but he is also scared, uncertain, and nervous.

 

His _vaasa-nari._ He had felt her soul and she had felt his – and how, how can he possibly be worthy?

 

“Mr. Ama Darav, the Pathfinder is requesting entrance.”

 

Ah. Of course he is. Jaal rubs his hands across his face, nodding at the formless AI. “The door is unlocked.”

 

Scott enters mere seconds later. “Dude,” he begins, hands already in the air, as he seems incapable of speaking without motion. “ _Dude._ I knew angara reincarnation was a thing, but soulmates? Holy _shit._ ”

 

Honestly, Scott appears just as stunned as Jaal.

 

“Holy shit, indeed. It is… rare.”

 

“How rare are we talking, here?”

 

“I have heard of only of one other _vaasa-nari_ couple in the past…” Jaal exhales. “Fifty years? Longer, perhaps. I am unsure.”

 

Scott tugs at his beard, squinting at the far wall while he thinks. “So, what’s it mean? That you guys had a thing in a past life or…?”

 

Jaal shrugs, a bit helplessly. “This is a thing of star-stories, Ryder. Of sweet tales we give to children. I do not know all the truths, I had not thought…” The breath he releases is a shaken, heavy thing. “I had not thought it to be real.”

 

“Wow.” Scott watches Jaal, and he has had enough time around the human to read his expressions. So different from angara, no bioelectricity to tell him precisely what he is feeling in the moment. But from the look in his eyes, the lax turn of his mouth, Jaal reads a certain thoughtfulness from the man. “Would the Moshae know anything?”

 

Jaal should have thought of that. But how can he, when his mind is so preoccupied with Sara Ryder? “Yes. Yes, I think she would. She knows much of our ancient lore and history.”

 

“Good. Then I’ll get her on the vid coms. SAM –”

 

“No.” Jaal stretches out a hand towards Scott, taking a step forward. Scott startles at the emphatic order. “Please wait. I must tell my mothers. My True Mother. They must know first.”

 

Redness crawls up Scott’s neck and face; a blush. He slaps a hand against his forehead and laughs. “Yeah, man, of course they need to know first. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to – to push things, I’m just –”

 

“She is your sister. You want to understand what is happening and protect her.”

 

Even without a field, relief rolls off Scott at Jaal’s words. “Yeah, I do. She’s all I’ve got left, you know?”

 

“Not all.” His words are slow and careful. “We are… family now, Ryder. Before we were brothers-in-arms, but now we are truly family.”

 

The blush returns, and Scott grins, wide and tooth. “Dude, you’re gonna make me cry.”

 

“There is nothing wrong with tears.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” A pause, and they study each other. Scott steps forward, reaching out to clasp Jaal’s arm. “Bro, whatever happens, however this plays out… I just want you to know as weird as this is for me, I’m pretty stoked.”

 

“Stoked?”

 

“Excited,” SAM provides.

 

“As am I.” They share a smile, a certain understanding passing between them as Jaal returns Scott’s grip.

 

“Okay, well, you go tell your mothers. I’m going to… I don’t know. Probably go see if I can worm my way back in to see Sara. Pathfinder privileges or something.”

 

The urge to follow him back to Sara is profound. Jaal forces it down – so very difficult – and nods. His place is here, and he needs to speak with his True Mother desperately. And then the other Mothers, so the news can spread amongst his family (how they will rejoice!), and finally Moshae Sjefa, whose understanding and guidance is much needed.

 

Scott leaves, waving before the doors shut. Jaal turns, studies his room and bed and his collection of things, before going to his bed. The energy that buoyed him earlier is rushing away, leaving him weak and dizzy-headed. He hopes Sara is not too badly impacted, that the glorious wave of emotion and memory and soul-knowledge would not harm her, in the rather fragile state she’s currently in.

 

Dragging the little crate he uses as a side table in front of him, Jaal places the vid monitor on top of it. He calls his True Mother on frequency meant only for emergencies – and while this is not _dire,_ it is certainly an emergency.

 

“My son!” Sahuna’s image appears on the screen, white and blue ice flickering in the light behind her. She is still on Voeld, then. “What is wrong? Are you well?”

 

“I am…” Jaal blinks at his True Mother, before covering his face with his hands. He laughs and cries at the same time, and Sahuna makes comforting noises over the line. “Mother, my True Mother… something miraculous has happened.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

He has to take several breaths. He’s begun trembling, overwrought with all that has occurred in such a short amount of time. “You… I told you of Sara Ryder?”

 

“The Pathfinder’s sister. She is awake now.”

 

“Yes, yes Sara is awake…. She is awake and, oh, Mother, she is… beautiful, and kind, and lovely… I fell into her and she into me, and it was – as soon as I saw her, as soon as she saw _me,_ it was – I have no words, no words for what poured out of me, poured into me.”

 

Sahuna knows all of her children, can read them as one might read a cherished book. And so she knows that this is not normal for Jaal, who was once hurt quite badly and has guarded his heart more fiercely than most angara ever do. The vid screen flickers and her brow ridges grow drawn together, her face coming closer to the screen as she leans towards him, as though to reach out.

 

“ _Vaasa-nari_ ,” he gasps, tears flooding faster now. “Mother, we are – oh, we are two made one. I saw her soul, her beautiful soul, and she looked into me as no one ever has before. She touched my face and said that she _knew_ me, that she dreamed of me. I am… I am…”

 

Soft, soothing noises come from Sahuna. Jaal can almost feel the warm sweep of her field on his own, a sense memory so strong it makes the muscles in his back and neck relax slightly. “Tell me everything that happened. All of it.” A demand, but a kind one.

 

Jaal complies. He tells his True Mother of seeing Sara and how the universe halted, and they became the center, the beginning and end; how they saw into each other, through and around time; their words, their touches, the way Sara _smiled_ for him.

 

“A gift.” Sahuna is weeping, soft and gentle. “Oh Jaal, what a _gift._ ”

 

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

 

“But…” Wiping her face, something fierce and dark crosses his True Mother’s features. “The Roekaar. Aksuul. They will use her against you, against the Pathfinder.”

 

“They will not _touch_ her.” Black, hot rage boils in Jaal, erupting like a volcano. His teeth grind together at the thought, at the mere idea of Aksuul _knowing_ of Sara, much less using her as a pawn in his sickness.

 

“No. No, we will not allow it. But they will try.” This is a tone of voice Jaal has not heard often from his True Mother. It is a voice that is unyielding, wiped of kindness. It is the voice of a Resistance fighter that has stormed kett bases and freed slaves from the prison camps, of a commander that has made hard calls and sacrificed.

 

And Jaal knows that, even if he were not able to stop Aksuul, Sahuna Ama Darav would tear the man apart before he was ever able to lay a finger on Sara Ryder.

 

 

\----X----

 

 

Jaal emerges from the showers exceptionally tired and hungry, but rather more even-keeled, emotionally speaking. Scott is lurking in the hall, attempting to look casual and utterly failing.

 

“My True Mother Sahuna is on her way to Aya now,” Jaal says, forgoing a greeting as he knows what Scott there to find out. “The Moshae is waiting for her, and they will be at the Nexus tomorrow.”

 

“Great! Great. Yeah, I think we’d all like some answers about all… this.” Scott gestures vaguely.

 

“How is Sara?” Jaal folds his arms, bare feet bracing hard on the floor as he shifts his weight. “I know that I find myself exhausted and stunned after all that occurred, and I do not want to cause her any set-backs or pain.”

 

“She’s tired, too. Real tired. Confused, like, a lot. But excited.” Scott laughs. “She asked me about a billion questions about you.”

 

Pleased, Jaal takes a moment to bask in the thought of her wanting to know of him. “And what did you tell her?”

 

“That you’re a Resistance fighter and a total badass –” Jaal absolutely preens – “That you’re helping us fight the kett, and how vital you are to the team. She asked about angara in general, so I told her what I know. Oh, and I told her that you snore like a motherfucker.”

 

This idiom always makes Jaal falter and his stomach roil. He thinks Scott and Liam use it on purpose, just to get a reaction. A fact that is confirmed by the Pathfinder’s knowing smirk. “Know what she said?” he pressed.

 

“What did she say?”

 

“That it’s fine, ‘cause she talks in her sleep.”

 

A flush of happiness washed over Jaal, stretching his mouth and causing his field to jump. Scott’s eyebrows raise as he jerks, the hair of his head lifting slightly. He laughs and tries to smooth it down, before breaching the distance between them to give Jaal’s shoulder a friendly punch as he passes.

 

 

 

\----X----

 

 

Jaal dreams of a planet he has never seen, never stepped foot on. He’s surrounded by green grasses and well-tended fields, where crops are growing almost as tall as he is. The sky is vibrantly blue, with soft white clouds, and the wind blows warmly, carrying the dark, musky scent of fertile soil.

 

Two human children play under the shade given from large trees, their soft skin red from the sun and covered in what he now knows are freckles. The boy, a reckless sort of laugh escaping him, begins to climb the tree.

 

“I’m not gonna help when you break your arm again!” The girl shouts, the wind twisting her long hair. It’s pulled back, away from her face. It is a soft, sweet little face, and Jaal adores it as he has nothing before.

 

“Liar!” The boy laughs more, climbing higher. His feet aren’t made for it – not like angaran feet are – but he’s deft and quick. After a few moments of indecision, the girl begins to follow.

 

Jaal is content to watch, feeling the warmth and happiness that flows from these children and this place, and into him.

 

 

\----X----

 

 

Jaal had started the day with every intention of meeting his True Mother and the Moshae at the docking bay, and then going to Sara. But he woke early and found himself unable to work, to think, to do anything other than pace and worry and wonder. Late in the morning he received a message from Scott, telling him that Sara had been moved from the hospital bay to the Pathfinder’s apartment on the Hyperion, and it had taken a great deal of effort simply not to sprint off the Tempest and to her side.

 

That resolve lasted less than two hours.

 

So here he is now, fidgeting and pacing in front of the doors to the apartment. A few Nexus guards and crew keep ambling by, poking their heads around the corner and watching him.

 

“Mr. Ama Darav,” SAM says through Jaal’s omnitool, making him jump and startle. “Scott would like to know if you are going to come in.”

 

Flushing hotly, Jaal almost curses the AI. Of course the blasted machine told the Ryders he had already arrived.

 

The doors open seconds later, and revealing Scott, who is wearing what Liam would call a shit eating grin. “Hey buddy,” he says in clear amusement. “You done having an existential crisis or you need some more time?”

 

“Fuck over,” Jaal grumbles.

 

“You’re talking to the wrong Ryder about that, big guy.”

 

“ _Scott!_ ” The horrified cry comes from the unseen Sara, and Scott laughs loudly. He waves for Jaal to follow him, already turning and heading into the apartment.

 

The large studio retains all of their father’s furnishings; paper books and weapons in display cases, half-finished ship models and stacks and stacks of data pads. Directly across from the door is a large bed, where Sara rests against a thick stack of pillows.

 

Jaal’s tongue feels thick and unwieldy. He halts halfway to the bed, hands twisting together as he eyes the human woman. She’s watching him back, biting her lower lip and twisting the blanket bunched in her lap in one fist.

 

“Hello,” he says, slow and rasping.

 

“Hello,” she returns, and Jaal thinks – hopes – that there is a certain breathlessness to her voice.

 

With all the theatrics Jaal has come to expect of him, Scott groans and flings his arms wide. “You guys are _literal soulmates!_ ” he exclaims. “Knock off the awkward getting to know you shit. Jeez.”

 

“Did anyone ask for your opinion?” Sara snaps, glowering at her brother.

 

“Nope, giving it out for free. You’re welcome.” Winking, Scott scoops up a bag, pulling the strap over his chest so it hangs across his body. “And on _that_ note, I’m gonna go get some lunch. Have fun, you crazy kids.”

 

“Bring me back a burger or something!”

 

“Sis, you puked Jell-O. A burger would kill you.”

 

“I’m hungry. Scottie, please?”

 

“Drink your nutritional shake and be happy for it. Later!”

 

“Ass.” Sara glowers at her brother’s back as he leaves, before seeming to remember that she and Jaal are now alone. She goes hot and flushed, biting her lip again while clearly trying very hard to _not_ look at him.

 

It takes a great deal of self-control not to climb into the bed and wrap her in an embrace.

 

“Um. So, do you… want to sit down?”

 

There’s already a chair pulled close to her bed. While it’s human in design and rather too squat for Jaal’s comfort, he crosses the room and folds himself into it. For a moment they simply watch each other, studying and shy and all too careful. Jaal is trying to sort through his words, trying to figure out what to _say,_ when Sara gives a snort of laughter.

 

He blinks at her.

 

“I’m sorry.” She waves a hand, a motion strikingly like her sibling. “I just – it’s weird, isn’t it? We… we saw each other’s minds or something yesterday, and now we’re trying to figure out how to do casual chit-chat.”

 

“It _is_ strange.” Jaal’s smile is rather relieved, glad he is not the only so conflicted and uneasy in the situation. “We have never met, but it… feels as though I already know all of you. Yet I know there is so much I _don’t_ know.”

 

Sara is nodding along as he speaks. “I don’t know your favorite color or – or your favorite food, but I, like, I _know_ your… essence?”

 

“Soul. You know my soul as I know yours. We saw each other yesterday, in a way that very few have done before.”

 

They watch each other, a strange, nervous tension running between them. After a time, Sara’s gaze drops, fingers twisting and pulling at the smooth fabric of the blanket covering her. “I was wondering… I mean, the bulk of your experience with aliens have been the kett and from I understand, that’s pretty… terrible. I just, um, I was wondering if – are you okay that I’m… human?”

 

Jaal blinks several times, sitting as straight as he can in the uncomfortable chair. “Why would I not be?” Unless… oh. Oh, no. He had not thought, had not imagined… “Are… you upset? That _I_ am not human?”

 

Sara jolts, shaking her head so that her loose hair flies with the movements. “No! No, I don’t care. I was raised with different species, I’ve dated different species, that doesn’t matter to me.” A pause, where she stares at him, takes all of him in. All of his alienness. “I think you’re beautiful.”

 

The words seem to have come out without thought, as Sara immediately flushes and looks away. Jaal beams at her words, his field flaring and sweeping towards her in pleasure. She looks up at the feeling of it, appearing so shy that Jaal could weep.

 

“You are the most beautiful creature in the universe, in any universe. In both form and spirit.” The words are raw and desperately honest, and it feels as though they are torn from a piece of his heart. Jaal watches as she flushes again, this time in pleasure; there is a dip in her cheek when she smiles wildly enough, an indent that he would very much like to press a kiss to.

 

“So, what… what does this mean?” Her question is a quiet one. “Where do we go from this?”

 

“I do not think there is any set course for this situation.” Jaal dares to reach out, to take her hand. He curses his gloves, wishes he could feel her skin, but her warmth sinks through the fabric. “It is something we must decide together, I believe.”

 

“Then what do you want?”

 

What _does_ Jaal want? Oh, so many things. To crawl into the bed and hold her, to sweep his hands through her hair and learn the texture. To share kisses and breaths and soft silence. To talk until their words run dry, to learn all there is to know of Sara and then discover more. To make her smile again, forever, until it is the only thing he can see.

 

“I would like…” Jaal considers his words, weighing them as Sara watches. Humans are so very restrained, saying so little of what the feel until it cannot be held back any longer. He does not want to scare her away, but he will not lie or deceive. “I want to be your friend.”

 

Her voice is very small as she asks, “ _Just_ my friend?”

 

“No,” Jaal strokes his thumb across her wrist, across her strange, pale skin. “But I want what we are to be based on trust and friendship. So that we may become… unified.”

 

“Partners,” Sara provides, and there’s that smile she gave him before, dazzling in its wonder. “I want that, too, Jaal.”

 

He laughs, giddy with relief and happiness. “I am glad, Sara, to have found you. I cannot wait to see what the future holds for us.”

 

She’s absolutely _blazing,_ blushing more brightly than Jaal has ever seen on another human. He finds it impossibly endearing, making his heart shudder and tighten. “If you keep saying those lovely things, there’s a good chance my heart is going to give out.”

 

“Then we shall have to make it stronger, as you deserve so much more than what my words can offer.”

 

“Holy shit,” Sara whimpers, free hand pressing over her face. “Scott wasn’t kidding. You _are_ a poet.”

 

Rather baffled at the turn, Jael blinks. “Yes, I write poetry, but I do not understand what bearing that has on our conversation?”

 

“Humans don’t – we don’t – we don’t talk like… that. To each other.”

 

Jaal snorts. “Yes, your race can be quite reserved. I don’t understand why; it should be natural to express yourself, especially to those you love.”

 

Sara goes still, teeth back on her lower lip. “Do you?” she asks, quietly. “Love me?”

 

This, he thinks, is an important moment – an important question. So he takes the time to pull his hand away from hers (with a soft smile to show that it is not a rejection), taking off his gloves and tucking the away before reaching out once again. Both of his hands wrap around one of hers, which is so small and fragile between his palms. He traces the little bones under thin skin, touches the random flecks of freckles and blue rise of her blood veins.

 

When he speaks, Jaal’s voice is resonant with emotion and conviction. “I believe that I loved you in lives long, long past. That I will love you in lives so far away that we cannot even being to grasp at them. And that, despite the fact that I have seen you like this only twice, my soul is and always was yours, to do with as you will. I have seen into the very core of you, and I was left in wonder. In awe. I do love you, Sara Ryder, in a way that is as instinctual as breathing. And I hope that, in time, we will love each other in the way that only those who have shared their lives for years can do, with age and memory and shared experiences bonding us together ever more strongly.”

 

Jaal watches Sara as he speaks, frightened at being so open – but also hopeful that she feels this as strongly as he does. Tears fill her eyes, making them shine even in the low light before they begin to fall. After he has finished speaking she is silent and unmoving, simply taking Jaal in as she cries.

 

It feels like an eternity before she clasps her free hand over one of his, pulling at this place where they’re joined. Bowing her head over their hands, Sara kisses the skin between his thumb and index finger. Jaal very nearly moans – that is a deeply intimate gesture, for his people – her mouth damp and lingering. After she rests her cheek there, looking at him as though he is something spectacular.

 

He would gladly spend the rest of his life in this moment, holding and being held, and drowning in this ageless love.

 

 

\----X----

 

 

“Sara, Sahuna Ama Darav is requesting access.” SAM’s voice breaks through the quiet that has built between them. Some time ago Sara had invited Jaal to sit on the bed with her, seeing how uncomfortable he was in the chair. Jaal agreed immediately, thrilled at the prospect of such physical closeness. He slid onto the far side of the bed, suddenly very aware of _large_ he was in comparison to Sara. He hoped she didn’t find it daunting or ungainly, but she had only smiled up at him and scooted a bit closer, their bodies touching in a long line.

 

Shortly after she had begun to drift into sleep and, unwilling to leave her, Jaal carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Sara leaned into him willingly, tucking her head against his chest and attempting to keep conversation up until she drifted into a light sleep.

 

Sara starts against him, muttering something and rubbing at her eyes.

 

“What?” she asks, voice thick. SAM repeats his message. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah.”

 

It takes a moment to place it, but the strange stiffness that comes over Sara can only be nervousness. Jaal is quick to squeeze her, his hand rubbing her lower arm. “Do not worry,” he assures her. “My mother will love you.”

 

The doors open, and Sahuna enters like a gale wind. She takes only a few steps inside before stopping, hands covering her mouth as she gasps and takes them in. “ _Oh,_ ” she breaths. “Oh, my darling boy. My beautiful daughter. I am so very happy!”

 

“Sara, this is my True Mother, Sahuna. Mother, this –” a certain amount of pride enters Jaal’s voice here – “is Sara.”

 

“Hi.” Sara waves, clearly unsure of what to do. But Sahuna, who always knows how to settle situations, rushes forward. She comes to sit on the edge of bed by Sara’s legs, gathering the human woman into a warm embrace. Her hands brush over Sara’s hair, which lifts and sticks to her body in response to her field.

 

After a few seconds Sara returns the hug, a startled laugh leaving her throat.

 

“I am so very pleased to meet you, Sara Ryder. The other mothers were desperate to come, but we agreed that it would best not to overwhelm you. We understand that human families are small, especially when compared to our own.” She pulls back, cupping Sara’s face in in her hands and studying her. Sahuna’s smile is bright as an Aya sunrise. “How lovely you are! So very beautiful! Jaal, you are very lucky.”

 

“Mother…” Jaal warns, flushed and not wanting to overwhelm Sara.

 

“I understand you have been ill.” Sahuna lowers her voice, as though they might be overheard.

 

“The Scourge hit my stasis pod when I was being woke up. I’ve been in a coma for almost six months.”

 

“Poor darling! Your brother sent me pictures of you –”

 

“He what now?” Sara cuts in, though Sahuna doesn’t lose her flow in the least.

 

“And you are much smaller in person than you are in them. We must feed you! Have you eaten?”

 

Sara darts a look at the half-drank nutrient shake on her nightstand. “If you can call it food. I’m on shakes. I’ve been on an intravenous feeding tube, and my body has to get used to solid food again.”

 

Clicking her tongue, Sahuna shakes her head. “I will find human recipes, hmm? Is there anything you like? I’m sure there are things from our diets that you can eat…”

 

Before Sahuna can begin planning meals, the doors open once more. Scott steps in, Moshae Sjefa at his side.

 

“Sjefa, come meet my new daughter!” Sahuna calls over her shoulder. “She is lovely, and I adore her.”

 

The Moshae laughs, bright and warm. “ _Paavoa_ , Sahuna, Jaal.” She pauses, giving Sara an appraising look. “And _paavoa_ to you, Sara Ryder.”

 

Again Sara waves, looking quite out her depth. “Hello.”

 

Jaal takes her closest hand in his own, giving it a warm squeeze. He’s brightened as she returns it, shooting him a look that he thinks may indeed be grateful.

 

“Well, let’s get this party started.” Scott folds his arms across his chest. “What do you know of _vaasa-nari_?”

 

The Moshae is quiet for a time, folding her hands and watching the two of them, as though she can see whatever lines of fate and destiny that are tangled around he and Sara. “It is an incredibly rare occurrence, this much is known. When I was very young, my parents were able to meet and observe such a couple. There is no true data to be collected, nothing to measure. But there are star-stories, which seem to be proven true by the two of you.”

 

“Star-stories?” Sara asks.

 

“Fairytales,” Scott supplies.

 

The Moshae drifts closer. “It is known that we are reincarnated, our souls coming back time and again, forever reborn and building strength within our families. Sometimes, very rarely, there are souls that become so attached to each other, that they bond in a way we do not understand. Whatever is between them is so mighty that they call to each other across lifetimes. Across galaxies, across dark space and time, it would seem.”

 

“That’s great and all, but are there side effects? Will they… read each other’s minds? Feel each other’s pain? Stuff like that?” This is the Pathfinder speaking, direct and questioning.

 

The Moshae shrugs. “There are some stories that say the connection is strong enough to bridge minds, in some way. The couple my parents met did not have such occurrences, or not in the span of time that they knew them. You must understand, Ryder, that this is rare. Impossibly rare. There is very little we know for certain.”

 

Scott sighs, tugging and pulling at his beard. “Thanks, Moshae. Sorry you came all this way just to tell us that.”

 

“It is my pleasure. And I would have been furious had Sahuna not asked me to come; the chance to meet _vaasa-nari,_ and one who is a human… this is history. A star-story being written now, one that will be told to your grandchildren’s grandchildren.”

 

A shiver overtakes Jaal. The enormity of it all seems to hit him in this moment; how rare and precious this newfound bond is, and how much it will mean to the people around them. To both of their peoples. Sara seems similarly affected; her hand is shaking in his hold.

 

They speak a while more, of the star-stories and the couple the Moshae met as a child. It is SAM who breaks in, perhaps half an hour later. “Forgive me, but I have been monitoring Sara’s vitals. I believe she needs to rest, now.”

 

“I’m fine,” Sara says, but her words are followed by a large yawn. Jaal can’t help but smile, as he finds the way her mouth stretches, the squint of her eyes, utterly adorable.

 

“Right, we’re out. I’ll have Harry come check on you sis, then you’re going to sleep.”

 

“You’re not the boss of me, Scott.”

 

“I’m the Pathfinder. You gotta listen to me now.”

 

“I’m older than you.”

 

“Two minutes doesn’t count.”

 

“It does. It really, really does.”

“You must rest, Sara. We will have you healthy once again soon, and then we will show you Havarl and you can meet your new family!” Sahuna hugs Sara again, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Sleep well, my new daughter. Sjefa, would you like to see the Cultural Exchange? I’m quite interested in it.”

 

“Of course.” The Moshae and Jaal’s True Mother leave (though not before Jaal is hugged and kissed, and once again told how happy his mother is). Scott sends for Dr. Carlyle over his omnitool, then moves to the bed to give Sara a kiss on the cheek.

 

“See you later, Sar-bear. Be good and listen to Harry, okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I guess.”

 

Giving Jaal a lingering sort of look, as though he’s trying to convey something Jaal can’t grasp, Scott eventually nods and turns away. He leaves the apartment, and Jaal is once again alone with Sara.

 

“I should head back to the Tempest.” And eat, his stomach announces with a snarl. Sara laughs, reaching over to pat his stomach with startling – and welcome – familiarity.

 

“I feel that, big guy. Get something tasty and eat for me, will you? These shakes are killing me.”

 

Jaal does not stand. Does not leave. He remains there, soaking in every point where their bodies are in contact. Sara seems content to stay in this position as well, winding her arm through his and leaning heavily against him. She’s dozed off when Dr. Carlyle arrives, the swish of the doors and his footsteps startling her awake.

 

“Sorry,” Sara jerks upright, rubbing a hand over her mouth. “That’s the second time I fell asleep on you.”

 

“I don’t mind.” Words that are very true; Jaal likes that she is already comfortable enough to rest against him.

 

Giving a small, regretful noise, Jaal unwinds himself from Sara and stands. “I will see you tomorrow, _taoshay._ ”

 

“Okay.” Sara’s blushing again, still blurry from her short doze. She seems very soft, in this moment.

 

“Jaal?”

 

“Yes?” He turns, only two steps away from the bed before she’s calling him back.

 

“What does that mean? _Taoshay?_ ”

 

His smile is long and sweet. “Beloved,” he eventually finds to be a satisfactory translation – though even this is somehow lesser.

 

But Sara glows, warm and flushed, and so wonderful that Jaal’s chest aches.

 

 


	3. First Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to call to order the first meeting of the Sahuna Ama Darav fan club. We're gonna get matching jackets!
> 
> I fought the end of this chapter. Stupid plot and realities, breaking into my fluff... >:( I JUST WANNA SEE MY BABIES HOLD HANDS AND BE ADORABLE, HOW DARE THE PLOT DISTRACT FROM THIS? 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos! I appreciate it more than you know!!! And hey, you can find me on Tumblr at broomclosetkink. Feel free to follow and message me, I'm always up for chatting!

After breakfast in a small Nexus café, which already offering angaran nutrient paste and sweets, thanks to the angaran workers and visitors now on the station, Jaal gives his True Mother a tour of the Tempest. It is a fine vessel; unlike any in their fleets, on any of their worlds. His pride in the ship is evident, as this is, in many ways, another home for him. And it is the base of operations for the team that is fighting the kett and _winning,_ fighting to save all of Helius and all the many races now calling it home.

 

“These are the Pathfinder quarters.”

 

The doors open quietly, admitting Jaal and Sahuna. She regards the vast room with a crooked brow. “Such space, for only one person.”

 

“Wasted space, to Ryder’s mind.” Jaal hums thoughtfully, walking towards the set-up of chairs and small sofas. There are ones of human design, of course, but also a reclining seat made for turians, a slender little thing that Kallo swears is the most comfortable chair in the universe, and a large… well, there are no words that Jaal can find for the contraption that Kesh and Drack hauled in some months ago.

 

It’s made for krogan comfort, which means it is massive, to fit Drack. It’s padded and stuffed and worn, comfortable for an old warrior with many aches and pains.

 

And, of course, there is a place for Jaal. A _kista_ , what the humans would call a sofa. Big enough for Jaal to stretch out on while they watch vids, made to fit the particular shape and curves of the angaran body.

 

“It is most often a shared space,” Jaal reveals. “We spend downtime here. Ryder kept a portion to himself – his workspace, his bed – but he has an, hmm, _open door_ policy.”

 

Sahuna regards the set-up, subvocals humming before she gives a sharp nod. “Good. I am glad to see you’ve chosen to follow such a leader. And that such a man is joining our family.”

 

“Ryder will be well loved.” Jaal grins. “He will adore the children. Though I suspect they will get into quite a lot of mischief.”

 

“Children need such adventures in their youth. And I think the Pathfinder will keep them safe, yes?”

 

“Of course! He is a very good man. A good friend and, I’m sure, he will be a wonderful uncle to the children.”

 

“Ah yes, the children…” Sahuna’s smile is sly and wide. “We must start thinking of the children, Jaal. Plans need to be made.”

 

It takes a moment for Jaal to process his True Mother’s words, and their meaning. When he grasps it, he blushes violently, stammering and grunting so that he sounds more like an adhi in heat than a speaker of language. “I – no – we are not – _Mother,_ it has been only three days!”

 

“And it’s best not to waste time, hmm? Oh, not _now,_ of course – there is much work to be done against the kett – but soon, there will be time. I wonder if our species are compatible in that way? It doesn’t matter, of course; Sara can bear human children and they will still be ours, and so very loved.”

 

Jaal is having an incredibly difficult time breathing. He hasn’t – how can his mother – this is _no time_ for such thoughts; not when Sara is weak and healing, when they are constantly fighting kett and Remnant, when worlds being healed and settled.

 

“My son, you have always wanted children. Has that changed?”

 

“No! No, of course not. But things are… Mother, we barely know each other.”

 

“Your souls are quite familiar with each other, it would seem.”

 

“She is recovering.”

 

“She will not be recovering forever.”

 

“I do not even know if she desires a family! The humans are… they are not like us in all ways.”

 

“But if she is with you, she _will_ be a mother to the Ama Darav children of your generation.” Sahuna pauses, studying her son. “Something to speak to her about, my son.”

 

Jaal is grateful when his implant beeps, signaling an incoming comm line. Drack’s rough voice comes across the connection. “Kid, you better get your ass up to Ops. Ryder’s about to murder Tann and Addison, and while I’d personally love to help him, I don’t think it’d end to well.”

 

He blinks. “Of course, but –”  

 

“They’re fighting about you and Sara.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“Kid, just get up here, and fast.”

 

Hands flexing, Jaal gives his Mother a strong – through distracted – caress of his field. “Mother, I must go. Stay strong.”

 

“Shed no unwarranted blood, my son.”

 

 

\----X----

 

 

The tram takes longer than usual, or perhaps that is because Jaal is worried and already angry (whatever the Nexus directors have planned cannot be good, he’s seen and heard too much from them). And because he is a very large angara radiating frustration and worry, stuck in a small space with several humans and one nonchalant turian, the ride is made even more unpleasant.

 

“Kick some ass,” said turian advises when the doors open, everyone waiting for Jaal to storm out first before they scramble away in his wake.

 

As soon as the main bay doors open to the steps leading upwards, Jaal can hear the shouting.

 

“You are out of your _fucking minds!_ ” Scott is roaring like an enraged fiend.

 

Jaal does not run, but it is a very close thing.

 

They are grouped outside Tann’s office. There’s a crowd gathered, not even bothering to pretending they aren’t watching in openmouthed stupefaction. Drack stands behind Scott, arms folded and _glowering._ The old krogan shifts and flexes his shoulders, bends his knees, and it’s clear he’s on edge enough to do something regretful.

 

“—this is a Nexus matter, Pathfinder, and –”

 

“Eat shit and _die,_ you slimy little fuck!” Scott has never been the most diplomatic of persons, but Jaal has never, not once, heard the man react in such a raw, thoughtless, and explosive way. He’s crowded into Director Tann’s space, face pressed closed to the salarian’s. “This is my _sister,_ my _friend,_ and **_their life!_** It has fuck all to do with the Nexus or the Initiative!”

 

Breaking through the crowd, Jaal catches the eyes of both Drack and Addison. The colony director rolls her eyes heavenward, hands fisting. “Congratulations on making a scene like a child denied sweets!” she snaps in a hiss. “You’ve gathered a crowd and then some!”

 

Jaal releases the damper on his field, allowing it to flow and thrum with his mounting anger. When he speaks, his subvocals are low and throbbing. “Ryder, tell me what is happening.”

 

Scott whirls. He’s panting, red in the face and neck, muscles and blood veins bulging. “These fucking – political pieces of garbage – want to treat you and Sara you’re like goddamn Disney characters and put you out on tour!”

 

Reining in his frustration, Jaal tips his head. “Explain in a way that I can understand.”

 

“If you would follow me into my office, I would be glad to explain.” Director Tann’s says tightly, clearly ready to escape the watchful gaze of the crowd. After a moment, Jaal nods. Scott is raking his hands through his hair and then tugging at his beard, over and over again, as he stomps towards the doors.

 

“I don’t think _he_ needs to be involved,” Addison snips, as Drack follows.

 

“Listen, you ice-cold bitch, I will tear the stick out of your ass and beat you –” Jaal grabs Scott by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from Addison, who has jumped several steps away.

 

“Drack will join us. Won’t you, my friend?” Jaal’s voice is deceptively mild.

 

“Wouldn’t miss it. If Ryder decides to tear these fuckers apart, I’m not letting him have _all_ the fun.”

 

The receptionist is cowering behind her desk. Jaal can’t blame her – Ryder does appear moments away from going on a bloody rampage, the likes of which have never been seen before. If this is what the Archon will face in battle, then the odds have certainly shifted more towards their favor.

 

Past the Pathfinder’s Hall, Tann gestures towards his sitting area. “Would you like to sit?” he asks, all restrained politeness.

 

Scott flares. “I’d like to toss your shifty ass out the nearest –”

 

“No, thank you. Now explain what has occurred.”

 

Tann and Addison share a look. It is the salarian that speaks first. “We were informed of the events when you met Sara Ryder, that you are… what’s the… _vaasa-niri._ ”

 

“ _Vaasa-nari,_ ” the three Tempest crewmembers correct, a unified voice of frustration and warning.

 

“Yes.” Tann inclines his head. “Forgive me, the angaran language is new and I am still learning. Given the apparent significance of this connection, whatever it may be, it would be greatly beneficial to all our peoples if the two of you were used as unified front. A show that the angara and Milky Way races and not only exist in the same space, but truly live together. And given the prominent positions you both hold – as a member of the Pathfinder team and the Resistance, and as the daughter of Alec Ryder and sister of the current Pathfinder – even more weight would be given to the position you bring forth.”

 

Jaal is quiet for a moment. He lets the words sink in, studies and turns them over. Tann speaks like a _yvar_ bird, with sweet charming notes until one comes to close and blood is drawn. He slides in between the spaces left, finds the true meaning among what is _not_ said, and his rage mounts at an almost unendurable rate.

 

“You would make a mockery of the bond we have.” Jaal’s announcement comes with a hot flash of his field, striking out in punishing anger. Addison yelps, the zap of sending her short hair standing on end. This attack, intentional or not, sparks her own ire.

 

“Bond you have!” she snorts. “It’s little more a misunderstood angaran physiological mating response. Given time and science, it can be explained rationally.”

 

“Souls do not yield to science or rationality. And you will speak of this tradition with a softer tongue, Director, or I will have words our ambassadors about your presence on Aya and the supplies we provide your settlements.”

 

“Those trade agreements –”

 

“Can be nullified with much more ease than it took to put them in place.” His words silence Addison, though her frustration glimmers like a hot fire. “Perhaps the fact that Sara and I are _vaasa-nari_ will become a beacon of hope in this time of war and blood. I would not resent any of our people for looking to this miracle and finding some solace in it. What I will not allow, not now and not ever, is for Sara and me to be paraded about like pets on leashes, smiling for photos and vids, and spouting Nexus propaganda.

 

“You said this was a Nexus matter?” Jaal turns on Tann. “I heard you, as I came up. Let me make this clear, Director: this is not a Nexus matter, or an Initiative matter. It is not a matter for the Resistance, or any of the angara world governments. This is private. It is personal. It is a relationship carried on between two persons who have a right to privacy and respect, especially while Sara is recovering. There will be no further conversations in the matter, and you will not bring it up with the Pathfinder or myself. Most especially you will not bring this to Sara, potentially setting back her recovery time. Do you understand?”

 

“With all due _respect,_ ” Tann bites through a clenched jaw, “you do not give orders to anyone here.”

 

“No. No, I do not give orders.” Jaal steps close, then closer still. Addison takes a hasty step away, but to his credit, Tann does not yield an inch. Jaal looms over them both, face set in hard and unyielding lines. “But I do have the right to privacy, and I can only assume that Sara will feel the same once we inform her of your misguided plans.”

 

“She will,” Scott confirms, his tone hard.

 

“And while I do not give orders, I do hold the notice of those who _do._ Efra de Tershaav. Our beloved Moshae Sjefa, who is here even now. Governor Paaran Shie of Aya. And you will find the Resistance, our leaders and scientists and even our politicians among our worlds, often carry the name Ama Darav. So no, Director Tann, I _do not_ give orders. But I have a surplus of advice for the people who do.”

 

Tann sizes Jaal up, from feet to vents. “Very well.” His tone impersonal and polite. “We will shelf this idea, for the time being.”

 

“For all fucking eternity, you –”

 

Jaal raises a hand, cutting Scott off before he can begin another (no doubt spectacular) display of vulgarity. “Do bring it up again, Director. Though I am not sure you will enjoy the consequences of pressing the matter, especially with my people. We value respect.”

 

With that he turns, a jerk of his chin calling for Scott to follow. The Pathfinder seems torn, before cursing under his breath and following. Drack brings up the rear, chuckling with unrepentant satisfaction.

 

“I got the whole thing on vid,” he announces as they descend from Pathfinder Hall. “Kesh is gonna _love_ it.”

 

 

\----X----

 

 

“They wanna _what_ now?” Sara is on the edge of her bed, clad in baggy clothing. The shirt falls over her shoulder and the shorts bunch oddly about her stomach and thighs.

 

Scott scrubs his hands through his hair. “You know, show you off like ‘hey, look at these guys! Totally soulmates! So let’s get along and, hey, totally support the Nexus because they do!’ That kind of bullshit.”

 

“What kind of hair-brained –” Sara pulls at her hair, in the same fashion of her twin. Their glowers are remarkably similar as well. Huffing, she drops her hand. “How did they even find out about it?”

 

“Your first meeting wasn’t exactly private.” Scott’s tone is wry. “The medical staff, people getting treatment, maintenance and engineering workers…”

 

“Great. Just awesome.”

 

“Hey, we took care of it, sis. Well, Jaal did. I kind of lost it and threatened to beat Addison with the stick lodged up her ass.”

 

A snort escapes Sara, and though she presses her lips tightly together, it’s clear she’s holding back even more amusement. “Scott, you idiot.”

 

“Diplomacy is _your_ thing, not mine.”

 

“It’s a wonder First Contact went so well.”

 

“It did not go so well at first. The Tempest was on fire when they landed, and there was a great number of armed guards escorting Ryder through Aya.”

“I’m not even surprised.”

 

The twins share a smirk. It fades too quickly on Scott’s part and he shifts nervously, from one foot to another, before sitting on the bed beside Sara. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

 

Jaal’s heart tightens. He hadn’t known it would be tomorrow, but he knew it was coming; there is too much to be done to stay on the Nexus. He watches as Sara’s jaw clenches; her chin rises before she gives a firm nod.

 

“I’ll pack.”

 

Scott winces. “Sis…”

 

“I’m not letting you go back out there alone. Six months, Scottie. Six months you’ve been in Helius, fighting alone. I’m coming with you.”

 

“I haven’t been alone. I’ve got a great team. You’ve got to stay here and get better, get your strength back up.”

 

Jaal vividly remembers the moment when their souls found each other, the way he had seen the shining core of Sara Ryder; he remembers the hard, unyielding spine of her, bending but unbroken, and knows this will be a hard-won battle.

 

“I can do that on the Tempest as easily as I can here.”

 

“That’s not true and you know it.”

 

“It is, and _you_ know it.”

 

The look Scott sends Jaal is rather pleading. “Sis…” He sighs, tugging at his beard again. “Sis, you’d be a liability. We can’t take that kind of risk.”

 

“A lia –” Sara flares, the hottest part of a flame and twice as deadly. “I kicked your _ass_ in Pathfinder team training! I kicked _Cora’s_ ass!”

 

“Yeah, you did. But now you’re can’t eat solid foods and you have to use a bath chair in the shower. What happens if the ship is captured? It almost happened once. There’s no way you could protect yourself.”

 

Light flares around Sara, a halo of vivid blue. Biotics, Jaal realizes. “Sara!” Scott pleads, holding his hands up. “Harry said no –” With a grunt, she pushes, and Scott is knocked off the bed. It’s not a hard hit and so he lands on the floor at Sara’s feet, watching as the biotics fade with a _snap_. She’s panting, red faced and suddenly sweating.

 

Blood begins to run from her nose.

 

“ _Taoshay…_ ” Jaal comes to her, crouching at her knees. He drags the blanket from the bed, using the edge to stem the flow of blood. “I know it is difficult, but you must stay here and become strong again. We will need you for the final battle with Archon.”

 

Gripping the back of her neck as though it hurts, Sara looks between Jaal and Scott. There are tears in her eyes.

 

“Fine,” she says, hoarsely. “Fine.”

 

The blood from her nose does not stem. Not long after, Dr. Carlyle arrives, grim faced. “ _Why_ am I getting readings that you used your biotics?” he demands, taking in the scene before him. Scott had gone to the bathroom and gathered up a fistful of tissues, which Sara is now holding against her nose. They’re soaked red, and the sight makes Jaal’s stomach clench.

 

“It was my fault,” Scott answers. “Sorry.”

 

“I told you that your implant needs to be used as little as possible during this phase of your recovery. You’re still fragile, Sara.”

 

“’M not fragile,” she mutters.

 

“Says the woman bleeding out. All right, you two get out. And you, lay back down.”

 

“No – I’ve got physical rehab –”

 

“Not today, you don’t. You’re about to crash and crash _hard,_ so get on that bed or I will stick you back in the bay and cuff you to a bed.” Dr. Carlyle glowers.

 

Sara attempts to stare him down, but quickly flags. Jaal helps her scoot up in the bed, tossing the bloodied blanket away before pulling the sheet over her legs.

 

“Out,” the doctor demands, pointing to the door. “Both of you. She needs rest.”

 

“Stay strong, darling one. I will see you soon.”

 

“Bye, sis.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Outside the doors, Scott groans and sags against the wall. “That went well.”

 

“It is to be expected.” Jaal rests a hand on the Pathfinder’s shoulder. “You Ryders seem to be a stubborn bunch.”

 

“Noticed that, have you?” A bite of humor kicks up the edges of his mouth. “Well shit, standing out here won’t help any. Come on, let’s go see what other trouble we can find ourselves.”

 

“Not too much trouble, I hope. My True Mother is still here.”

 

“Moderate trouble it is. Drinks at the Vortex?”

 

“A good plan.”


End file.
